I Will BURN You
by B-The-Geek
Summary: This is my first ever fanfic so I hope you like it! It takes place just after the end of series 3 and is a Sheriarty ship (or Jimlock, whatever floats your boat)... But Sherlock has vanished. What if Sherlock and Jim Moriarty really had kissed in the Reichenbach Fall? What if they were in love? Can people change? Just some ideas I'm messing with... CONSTRUCTIVE CRIT NEEDED!


CHAPTER ONE

Laughter echoed loud and hearty through 221B Baker Street. A lone figure sat in John Watson's armchair, teacup in hand, watching himself on television. He was on every channel.

He asked the world a question: "Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me?"

No, not asking the world.

Asking HIM.

Asking... Sherlock Holmes, of all people.

The only person that understood.

Jim Moriarty liked to play the consulting criminal: he was not only good at it, he excelled at it. So much to plan. To organise. The beauty of his crimes, his little games. Teasing Sherlock with irresistible treats. Drawing him in. Drawing him closer.

Closer.

Jim would never forget his vow, made in the heat of the moment, the rage behind it: "I will BURN you. I will burn the heart out of you..."

He wouldn't forget it.

And this time he would do it.

Maybe.

As he lay back in the chair sipping at his sweet tea and awaiting interruption, he contemplated the case known in the idiot Watson's blog as "The Reichenbach Fall". _Wah wah, my best fwend is dead, poor little me!_

Jim should have killed him years ago, back at the pool.

But that wouldn't have broken Sherlock.

Not then, when they barely knew each other.

And he wanted Sherlock broken...

Slowly.

Reichenbach Fall. The whole identity of Richard Brook - Reichen-Bach- was pretty good, he had to admit. Not that he minded self-congratulation.

But that kiss on the rooftop...

The thought gave him goosebumps.

He still thought the plot was no match for "The Great Game". Another good name - perhaps that was why Sherlock put up with the imbecile.

Bombs.

He wished he'd detonated John Watson back then, before the two were inseparable - in _love_, according to so many.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs. As if on cue, the man crashed through the door with his wife in pursuit.

"YOU! How the hell are you alive!"

Mr and Mrs Watson had their guns out and aiming before Jim could say "Did you miss me?" The precision of the assassin and the soldier was not doubtable.

He said it anyway, of course.

"Hello, John. So sorry I missed your wedding. I heard it was quite... something." He looked for Sherlock behind them, but he wasn't.

Watson crossed the room in a second and forced the barrel of the gun under Jim's chin.

"What the hell have you done to him? Where the hell is he? And where's Mrs Hudson? Tell me or I'll kill you, Moriarty, I swear to god..."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know full well. Sherlock Holmes? Antisocial chap in the funny hat? My-my best friend? You tried to destroy his reputation and forced him to jump off a roof?"

Jim swore in his head and slammed his hand down on the arm of the chair. "Mrs Hudson is perfectly fine, just out of the way. And she'll stay fine... For now. But... I came here to talk to Sherlock..."

"You don't know where he is?"

"_You_ don't?"

There was a silent stare-off for a few seconds before Watson removed his gun, perhaps realising it would get him nowhere with the man who had survived such a shot once.

Mary had her mobile out in her other hand. "John, love, should I call the police, or do you want me to kill him?"

"Darling, don't get involved. You don't know what he's capable of."

"It's a bit late for me to stop getting involved. I didn't marry you to stop getting involved."

Jim jumped up, his tea forgotten as he paced the room, grinning despite himself at the bullet holes in the wall.

So Sherlock got as bored as he did.

"Can we wait until later for the lover's row, please! Where's Sherlock, John? Where. Is. He?"

"If I knew I wouldn't tell you."

"Then we have to find him."

"What makes you think we'd help you? After all the evil things you've done!" John was shaking with barely suppressed rage.

Quietly, Jim pointed out; "People change. You killed my client the cabbie, and you'd kill again. You killed so many when you were a soldier. You've got it in you. And what about your wife?"

"I don't need to know what Mary did in her past," Watson moved to hug her, but she shrugged him off with a kind smile. "She's a different person now."

_And so much smarter than you_, Jim thought. _If you only knew…_

"So can't you accept that maybe I am too, John?"

"You're a monster! To kill all those people… poison those children..."

Moriarty shrugged. "It's been a mixed bag, I'll give you that. But the children are fine!"

"They're scarred for life."

"John, I need to find Sherlock," Jim was surprised at the desperate weakness of his tone. "Please, he won't come out for me, but he might for you."

"He didn't before." Watson's face turned bitter, but Mary walked over and lay her gun and phone on the coffee table.

"Do you love him?" The woman asked brusquely, grabbing Jim's arm and staring into his eyes as if looking for a soul there. (There wasn't one.)

At last, out loud, Jim Moriarty said;

"Yes, I think. Something like that..."


End file.
